Friendly Fire
by FlintFyre
Summary: Seamus is simply trying to get through his life with as little bother as possible. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be his fate, what with his affections centered on his best friend and all. Dean/Seamus. Warnings are in the Author's Note.
1. Póg mo thóin

**Author's Note: **Alright, so this here is a short spin-off, side-story sort of deal, which corresponds with my other fanfiction titled 'Love Games'. It's not utterly necessary to read 'Love Games' first, but if you want to know what the hell is going on in the beginning, it would probably help a lot. As of now, I'm intending this to not be as long as 'Love Games' currently is, but I may change my mind later, depending on how this story is received and how much I like writing it. I've never even read a Dean/Seamus fic before, so please tell me if I'm doing it horribly, and I will try to improve. With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy it, and I would of course be thrilled if you leave me a review. I consume them as much as I am currently horfing down Reese's Puffs. So like, a lot.

Included in this story is sex between two males, some slight angst, and a fair amount of Irish slang with some Gaeilge thrown in for good measure.

* * *

><p>Seamus gulped nervously. He tried to keep calm, to stay and just freaking relax. It was charms, for fuck's sake. He could get through this.<p>

But why was it so bloody hot in here?

He wasn't exactly sure when it had started. They had been normal friends, hitting it off nearly right after they arrived at Hogwarts, when they were on the boats going across the lake. It had been pure luck that they had been sorted into the same house. Well, perhaps that was what had attracted them to each other. The typical Gryffindor traits ran through all of them, and made them closer because of it.

But now it was different. They weren't eleven anymore. That fearful first year with sandy brown hair, freckled cheeks, and wide eyes had grown into a sixth year with sandy brown hair, freckled cheeks, and still slightly wide eyes. Yes, he was the same, but he was different too. Older. More mature. More…hormonal. And definitely more confused.

For Seamus was attracted in a different way now. He couldn't just think of Dean Thomas as a friend anymore, no matter how hard he tried to quell his desires. But that was how Dean saw him.

A friend.

Seamus scribbled a few words down to pretend he was taking notes. Professor Flitwick was often interesting at least, being about four feet tall with a tiny grating voice. But Seamus was distracted today by other, more attractive things. He tried not to look, but the bloke was like a magnet, drawing his attention constantly. Seamus's eyes roamed over Dean's profile for the thousandth time, hopefully without him noticing.

He took in yet again that darker skin. Seamus felt as pale as a fucking ghost, but Dean always jokingly called himself 'light mocha', because he was only 'half-black'. His dad was some sort of wizard who had run off after Dean was born, from what he had told Seamus. Apparently he had been white, because all of Dean's step brothers were black, and his mother and step father were as well. He seemed to stick out a bit from the others in his family, though, and didn't quite fit in.

Seamus wondered if that skin really tasted like light mocha. He always imagined it did.

Dean must have inherited his father's eyes, too, Seamus thought. They had always struck anyone who looked into them, because they were an odd bright blue. It contrasted with the darker hue of his skin, but they were wide and quite striking even on their dullest day, piercing into your very soul. His face was slightly framed by loose, boyish curls that were so dark brown, but not quite black. His nose was delicate and slightly upturned, his voice velvety smooth, his muscles defined and taught beneath his robes. He was fucking perfect.

And all the while, Seamus suffered. Suffered because he was unable to look for too long, or touch, or even say how he felt. Dean was straight, and he was not. That was how things were. That was what he was.

A friend.

* * *

><p>"I feckin' hate my life," Seamus groaned into his hands. He flopped onto his bed, covering his face in shame.<p>

Thank bloody Merlin that all his classes were over with for the day. He had been fighting off an erection valiantly all afternoon, and now he could just curl up and slowly pass away from either humiliation or sexual frustration. He couldn't decide, but surely one would win out soon enough.

It had been getting worse. Last year, Seamus had been getting some rather odd feelings about his best mate. The one who had stuck by him, entertained him when he was bored, helped cover up some rather problematic damage due to a misfired spell, and even got him a date with Lavender to the Yule Ball. These odd feelings had confused him for ages. It had almost felt as though they were a bit too close for their own good. But that couldn't happen, could it? And Dean didn't seem to be having any problems…

It was when Dean started dating other girls that Seamus began feeling burning hatred for them. But it was surely because they just took time away from hanging out as mates, right? Surely it would be fine once Dean managed to balance it out, having a girl _and _a friend to please.

Wrong. It wasn't immediately solved like he had thought it would be. A permanent sick feeling had taken residence in his stomach, twisting painfully every time he saw a girl saunter up to him. Seamus had got a fair few bit of offers too, mind. But none he was very enthusiastic for. Why was it so easy for other blokes to tolerate these women? They were bloody frustrating and overreacting all the time to the littlest things. He found it much more bearable to be around the other boys. No, he couldn't stand girls. Especially the ones that drooled over his best friend. Even when Dean had moved on to Ginny Weasley, Seamus had immediately gained an unpleasant view of her. He had never mentioned it, of course, but it was clear the girl was a no-good whore who was out to ruin everyone's lives and steal their best mates. Plus, she didn't treat him right. They always fought over stupid things, like why he spent so much time goofing off with Seamus.

Bitch.

He sighed and looked over to the curtains that were half drawn around his bed. They were scarlet, reflecting his house colors. The whole bloody room was decorated in red and gold, actually, as well as the common room, and most likely every other dorm room for the Gryffindors. He got it and everything, the house pride, but bloody hell. Sometimes too much is too much.

Feeling bitter, Seamus kicked off his shoes and tried to find something else to complain internally about.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the door banging open and Dean thundering into the dorm. He was clearly raging about something, but at least he wasn't yelling. Yet.

He looked adorable when he was angry.

"Bloody – I can't even – who _does _that?" He finally shouted, fisting a hand in his own hair.

"What is it?" Seamus asked, sitting up immediately.

"Ginny!" he said angrily, sitting on his own bed next to Seamus's. "She asked me to go flying with her this afternoon, and then just now told me she had never said it! What, am I fabricating things? I'm not going mad, I swear she said it! We made plans just yesterday!"

Seamus waited until Dean finished ranting, trying not to express the glee building up inside him. Maybe if the redheaded harpy continued to drive him insane, Dean would end it, and Seamus would have him all to himself.

Not that it mattered, because he would never get what he really wanted…

"I'm sorry, mate," Seamus said sympathetically. He did sort of feel bad that Dean was having such a rough time with the girl. It seemed one minute they were sickeningly happy, and then the next they were at each other's throats. Was that how it was supposed to be with a relationship? Seamus didn't think so.

"It's okay," Dean sighed, switching alarmingly fast from outraged to dejected. He ran a hand through his loose curls, looking down at the blanket he was sitting on. Those blue eyes stared at nothingness, always contemplating something mysteriously. Sometimes he would stare off for worrying amounts of time, even, if he were sporting a particularly misty attitude that day.

"What're you thinking about?" Seamus asked curiously.

"I'm thinking I want to blow stuff up," he replied moodily.

Seamus nodded, grabbing a pack of Exploding Snap cards from his nightstand. He led the way down the stairs, Dean slumping after him. Even when he was like this, in such a grumpy state, Seamus had to fight to not stare at the way his lips stuck out and became all pouty.

"Oi maybe she just has a lot on her mind," Seamus said. He had no idea why the hell he was defending her, since she was constantly taking the object of his affections away from him. However, Dean liked her, so he had to pretend to like her as well.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, sounding as though he didn't believe it one bit.

Seamus tried not to smile.

They settled on the floor of the common room and he carefully removed the cards from their little box. One had to be gentle with them, for one wrong move ended the game with a very loud…well…exploding noise. Madame Pomfery had treated more than a few burn victims in her day, causing her to become resentful of the dangerous game. He dealt them gingerly and picked up his own hand, being mindful to keep it a safe distance from his face.

"Say something cool," Dean said, looking up at him expectantly.

Seamus sighed. Ever since Dean had discovered that he was fluent in Gaeilge, he had been requesting odd sayings every so often. It seemed to cheer him up, though.

In Ireland, Seamus had been nearly forced to learn the language. Well, everyone was _forced _to, since the language was dying, but none of the muggles were drilled constantly by their mothers. Irish wizards used the language for a great portion of their spell incantations, apparently. They weren't taught at Hogwarts like that, so he couldn't help but feel that, when he were eleven, it had been a complete waste of time and too much effort to be worth anything. However, wizards back home spoke amongst each other in Irish more so than the muggles did as well, which meant it was called into use far more often. He supposed it was a way to hold onto their heritage, as well as a way to recognize each other from the non-magic folk, that made the language so popular among them. One man clad in purple robes had walked up to him in the street, gabbling away at a speed that made it hard for him to follow properly. However, his mother had ground it into him constantly as a child, and often only spoke to him in Gaeilge as well, thus making him better with it than most people he knew. He had been able to point the wizard in the right direction for the muggle train station with only a little bemusement, and quite proudly walked away from the encounter with success.

"What do you want me to say?" Seamus asked, putting down a seven. They stared at it expectantly, but it didn't explode, so Dean played his hand as well.

"I dunno," he said, shrugging. "Anything, I guess."

"Póg mo thóin," he drawled, setting down a nine.

"What did you say?" Dean asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I said 'it's cold out'," he replied brightly. Dean didn't see the cheeky smirk that followed, however, for he was busy setting down two fives and a newt.

"Wonder where Harry is?" Dean said casually. He lay on his side on the floor, propping himself on one elbow.

"Dunno. Why?" Seamus asked.

"Well, he was looking a bit sick the other day, and sort of miserable. Gin keeps saying he looks all sweaty all of a sudden during class, but then denies whenever someone mentions it. I wonder if he's ill or something?"

"Well, You-Know-Who _is _wandering around trying to kill him," Seamus pointed out. "That's probably quite a dose, don't you think?"

"I suppose," he replied, shrugging as if it were nothing. "I just feel bad for him sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, me too. Bloke's been through a lot," he said guiltily. Including the stupid ridicule of his friends that he didn't even deserve…

He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on how much of an arse he had been last year.

They played for quite a while, the cards seeming to hold out for longer than usual. They should have been reduced to cinders by now, but they still remained stable. Whenever this happened, the game usual grew more tense as the clock ticked on…

Eventually, the portrait hole opened and Harry himself clambered in, followed closely by Ron. He did look a bit ill, since his face was rather flushed.

"Oi, where you two been?" Seamus asked, playing another card gingerly.

"Owlery," Ron answered. "Had to send a letter."

"Aw no, I just remembered I have one too," he groaned. His mother had insisted he update her on his classes and how his life was going in her last letter. He had already written his wordy response (in Gaeilge, of course), but had yet to send it. She would no doubt panic if he didn't get back to her soon, as was his mother's nature. "I better go send it, mum wants an answer back straight away or she'll natter on again about my 'growing apart' stage. I swear, the woman thinks I'm about to _off _myself or something. Don't blow up the cards," he grinned, to which Dean scowled half-heartedly.

"I won't."

"See you later. We better finish that star chart too for Astronomy, yeah? I'll see you at dinner."

"Oh, actually I'm meeting Ginny on the grounds for dinner," Dean said sheepishly, picking up the cards a bit less carefully than he should be.

"What?" Seamus said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"For a picnic. But I'll meet you in the common room after, yeah?" Dean assured as he put the cards back in the box.

"Alright," Seamus replied, turning and climbing out of the portrait hole before he could let his disappointment become too obvious.

They would probably start off innocently enough, having a simple date out on the sloping lawns of the castle. But that would soon turn to cuddling, which would soon turn into kissing, which would then morph into desperate snogging. And all the while, Seamus would be sitting in the Great Hall, feeling alone amongst his friends and thinking about who he would rather be spending his time with. Dean would lose track of time, perhaps doing more explicit things with the Weasley girl than Seamus would like to imagine, going well into the night and forgetting their homework completely. Seamus would wait in the common room for him, and he would show up much too late, apologizing for his mistake. But Seamus would say it was alright, and that he hadn't been waiting. He had gotten a start on his own homework really, nothing to worry about. It would be a lie, of course, for he always waited, but it would keep him safe. Keep his heart protected.

As he walked down the empty hallway, Seamus realized he had forgotten the letter. He didn't turn back to get it.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Begging for reviews once more. And yes, I'm aware of how pathetic I am when I do so.


	2. Bit of a Shock

**Author's Note: **I realize the last chapter was a bit short, but it was sort of an 'intro' type deal. This one is longer, and they'll probably grow in size once I get going here.

* * *

><p>He felt like hell. Well, more so than lately, anyways.<p>

Dean and Weaslette were down the table exchanging horribly comfortable kisses, making his breakfast seem completely unappetizing. He had been_ so_ looking forward to the fish fingers, too. Damn.

Last night, his assumptions had been mostly correct. Dean hadn't showed, and instead had stayed out so late that Seamus had given up waiting and gone to bed. He would have so dearly love to have been mad at his best friend. Been angry and not talked to him for the rest of his bloody life. Then, he wouldn't have to hold out hope. He wouldn't have to keep staring at that smiling face, at those bright blue eyes and loose brown curls that fell around his face so boyishly. He wouldn't have to pine after his best friend and live in hopeless longing, never moving forward.

But he couldn't be angry. He couldn't stand to see disappointment on Dean's face, for he didn't even deserve it. Dean hadn't led him on, or given any indication that he would reciprocate any romantic desires. Seamus himself had created these feelings, and it was up to him to stop them as well.

Sighing, he decided to try and hurriedly finish that Astronomy chart instead of eating. He would pay for it later, most likely, when his stomach started growling in the middle of Snape's class, but he couldn't force anything down his throat when he was feeling so pitiful. He had to find some way to get over this. Some reason for living again. Perhaps another boy, one that would accept him for who he was and 'what' he liked. No one knew, of course. No one knew his closely guarded secret. So how was he even supposed to find someone who would have the same 'interests'? He hadn't told a soul except for his mother…

That, at least, had been a pleasant surprise. His mother, always one to overreact and be immensely protective of him, had intimidated it out of him basically. She always knew when something was wrong, or when he was lying. Perhaps he was just a terrible liar, or perhaps she was more proficient in legilimency than she let on. Either way, she had got it out of him, and he had been terrified of what she might think.

"_Seamus, what's wrong with you?"_

"_What? Nothing!" he defended, looking up from his magazine._

_The woman had burst into his room without any preamble before hurling her questions. It had been entirely silent before then, with him reading quietly atop his bed, so naturally he was recovering from a near-heart attack at the surprise. It made it difficult to speak, much less fabricate an excuse for his sulky behavior as of late._

_He suspected that perhaps that was her method for a reason. Ambushing him when his defenses were down. Using the surprise as a sort of weapon. It probably produced more results…_

"_Such lies, sweetheart," she said calmly. She always had a way of sounding scary yet loving at the same time. He had no idea how she pulled it off._

"_I don't know what you're – " he said nonchalantly, but was abruptly cut off by her I-don't-believe-you face._

"_You know you can tell me anything, muirnín," she said softly._

_He gulped. She knew, and he wasn't fooling anybody. His poorly constructed mask of 'everything's fine!' had been seen through by her piercing gaze. What had he expected, really? He never got away with anything. Joining Dumbledore's Army? Exposed. His fifth cauldron having exploded in potions due to yet another freak accident? Revealed. The Pygmy Puff he had smuggled from the shop when he was ten? Found. And now, she was beginning to discover yet another secret he was keeping from her. What was he going to do? How could he tell her something that could change the way she saw him forever? What if she chose to kick him out, and he had to survive living on the streets without magic for another year? He would have to steal food, and clothing…live in the harsh weather…perhaps become a male prostitute for the muggles in order to obtain some money…what if he was murdered in an alley before he could turn his life back around? Perhaps he could find a foster family to take him in…he was still young enough to be cute, right? Didn't parents want to adopt cute children?_

"_Sweetheart? You're hyperventilating."_

"_Sorry," Seamus gasped. He willed his heart to slow down to an acceptable level instead of trying to beat out of his ribcage. Perhaps if it did escape, though, he would die before his mother could force the confession out of him. He would be remembered as the normal, straight son who had passed from a freak heart-attack for no reason._

"_Just tell me, darling, you know I love you," she continued. Her face looked genuinely concerned, something he wasn't expecting. Usually she thought he was trying to hide something stupid he had done (which was usually a good assumption on her part), and wheedled it slowly out of him using guilt and other such weapons. He always caved in the end._

_Seamus seriously debated telling her this one, though. This was vastly different than a smuggled Puffskein or a melted cauldron. This was something quite serious, which he himself had only found out a few months ago. Why couldn't he be like all of the other boys? Why couldn't he just toss off to images of girls rather than that hard, tough, strong body that accompanied him to classes, or sat and joked with him at the Gryffindor table after a long day? Why did he have to be like this?_

_Tears welled up suddenly, taking him by surprise. By the look of it, his mother was alarmed as well. It seemed the frustration and misery that had built up so much inside him these past months was finally, after too long, overflowing._

"_I think I'm gay," he choked out, the last word turning into a sob._

_Then the dam burst, and he felt shuddering gasps coming from his mouth as tears streamed down his face. He hunched over on his bed, resting his forehead on his knees and waiting for her to say something. Anything to tell him if it would be okay, or if he should start packing his bags so that he didn't miss the Knight Bus._

"_Oh, muirnín," she cooed, and he felt arms embrace him immediately._

_He let himself be pulled towards her, not caring how childish and stupid he felt. He had been carrying the secret for a while now, and her acceptance seemed to make him just cry harder. Harder because he didn't know what else to do, but harder because of the relief that flooded through him at her loving gesture. She wasn't going to hate him._

"_I didn't want to tell you," he gasped, wiping his eyes with his hand behind her shoulder, "because I was afraid of what you might think. I don't want to be, but I can't – I don't know what – I can't help it!"_

"_I know," she said sympathetically, squeezing him tighter. "Don't worry, Seamus, it'll be alright. It doesn't make you any different – "_

"_Yes it does!" he sobbed into the room, feeling pitiful._

_She let him cry for a while, emptying his sorrows onto the only person, after so long, who finally knew what was bothering him. The longer it went on, his cheeks soaking with the spilling of his emotions, the more his chest seemed to loosen. It was as if a belt had been pulled tight across his torso, and was now finally being released. He could breathe again._

_When the flow had subsided a bit, she pulled back and looked him sternly in the eye. "You are perfectly fine, and there is nothing wrong with you. Do you understand? Some people just…well, some people think different than others. That's just the way it is. Everybody's different. And no matter what, I will_ always_ love you."_

_Then she proceeded to drag him close again and hold him to her for what seemed like ages. She didn't let go until he had finally stopped crying, and then got up and asked if he wanted to go school shopping early. She bought him a new broom that day, as well as two ice creams at Florean Fortescue's._

Sighing and wishing he wasn't such a coward, Seamus fished around in his bag for a quill to do the stupid chart. If Dean would just get the bloody hell out of his thoughts already…

"Bollocks," Seamus muttered, feeling around more vigorously in his bag. There had to be _one _quill in here, at least…

His hand found crumpled papers, probably what used to be homework, and several books. No quill. He growled, stuffing the chart roughly into the bag, clipping it shut quickly, and throwing the strap violently over his shoulder to storm up to the tower and get a fucking new quill. He had a thousand of them upstairs. He should just throw the box in his bag too, for how tidy it was.

Fuming at generally everything in his path, Seamus marched up the isle towards the doors that led to the Entrance Hall. He returned Dean's wave on the way, wondering how his own arm didn't break off with how much he was resisting it. Said arm would much rather be flipping up two fingers at the redhead next to him…

* * *

><p>He kicked the door to the dormitory open, not bothering to be quiet. If Weasley was sleeping like a log again, his snores would no doubt drown out the sound anyways. Seamus didn't know how that bloke ever even woke up on time for classes. Well, Harry probably was the one who –<p>

Seamus froze, hearing some quite strange noises coming from one of the beds. The curtains were closed around it, shielding what was going on. But as he listened, it wasn't hard to guess.

"Yeah, like that…"

Whining and heavy breathing, which were slightly muffled by the curtain, drifted through the air.

"You're so good Harry…so hot…"

Ron's voice, sounding quite strange. He was grunting rhythmically, as if he were…moving in a certain way. Seamus wanted to run. To turn tail and book it out of here. Only, the small problem of his legs not working was preventing him from leaving.

"Fuck…"

Moaning, keening. Harry crying out in a pleasured way.

More moaning. Ron's muffled groans, as though his mouth were obstructed.

Heavy breathing, which was starting to die down, and a light chuckle that followed.

"We should shower. We'll probably be late for breakfast," Harry's breathless voice drifted through the curtains.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ron's voice replied. "Come on."

Seamus panicked as he saw the curtains moving. The shock radiating through him was what had paralyzed his legs, however, so he couldn't flee like his brain was telling him to do. All he could do was watch as they were drawn open, revealing Weasley, who's face immediately turned to surprise.

"We forgot to cast _muffliato_," he said numbly.

Seamus saw that Ron's cheeks were flushed and he looked a bit sweaty. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and Seams wasn't willing to look any further down to see what other evidence there was of his…activities. He knew what this all meant, he just was having a bit of trouble processing it at the moment.

Weasley and Potter were in the same bed. They had been breathing heavily, and quite close to each other no doubt. Harry looked past Ron, and Seamus could see that his face was indeed flushed too.

Right.

Before he knew it, Ron had pulled up a chair and was forcing him to sit down in it. Seamus's bag slid heavily onto the floor off of his limp shoulder with a _clunk._ Harry was sitting dazedly on the bed beside them, looking at Seamus with wide eyes. Weasley paced for a moment, then stood in front of him, looking menacing. And angry.

"What did you hear?" Ron shot.

"Er…n-nothing…" Seamus answered, avoiding both of their eyes. He couldn't look at them right anymore. All he could see was them together in his mind, which was dangerous in _so _many ways…

Ron snorted.

"Bullshit," he accused, pulling a hand through his red hair.

"I just came up to get a spare quill," Seamus explained hurriedly, staring at the floor now. "I…er…didn't mean to…I mean, I didn't think…"

How the bloody hell was he supposed to know he would walk in on _this_?

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Harry begged, looking a bit desperate.

Seamus gulped, looking up at Ron. The redhead loomed over him scarily, a good measure taller since Seamus was sitting and Weasley had a good six inches on him standing anyways. The bloke was a bloody giant.

"I say we wipe his memory," Ron said, turning to Harry. "Then he won't be _able _to tell."

"No," Seamus said, eyes widening. He didn't quite trust them not to put him how Lockhart ended up. Everyone knew that he was currently seated in St. Mungo's, trying to remember who the hell he was. Bad things happened to people who crossed Harry Potter. "I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

Ron looked questioningly at Harry, like they were deciding whether or not to kill him. Seamus gripped his wand tightly in his pocket, ready for a fight if need be, but Harry just shrugged.

"I can't let it get out," Harry said simply. "I'm not ashamed or anything, but if Voldemort – " both Seamus and Ron flinched at the horrid name "finds out then you'll be in even more danger... Everyone else I care about is dead, so if he knows…"

Harry's voice faded, and he looked quite sad. Seamus remembered last year, when that sad look had been most prevalent in those green eyes. Nearly all the time, in fact. It would be expected of anybody who was forced to think they were a nutter. But Harry had been telling the truth the whole time, to the scrutiny of being insane for his proclamations. And Seamus hadn't helped one bit, of course…

"That's the only reason you're worried?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Harry said.

They stared at each other, both looking all shy and…weird. Seamus didn't know what the hell was going on, but he did know a few things. For one, he had just caught them in a very compromising situation. They were clearly doing elicit things behind that curtain, or else playing a very vigorous game of Quidditch inside, which Seamus doubted. The two had been doing the only other thing a bed was intended for besides sleep. But the way they looked at each other wasn't like two blokes just out to get off.

They liked each other. For real.

"So…you two are really…you know…" Seamus said, squirming uncomfortably in the wooden chair.

"Yes," Ron said shortly.

"For like…how long?" he was surprised they had managed to keep this from everyone in the dorm. Seamus also was a bit curious, despite himself, of how he hadn't known. Weren't they all supposed to recognize their own kind or something?

"About a week," Harry said, sounding sheepish. "Probably more."

"We didn't make it very long without getting caught," Ron sighed, flopping down on his own bed. "I wonder if we shouldn't just tell Dean now too?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "The fewer people who know, the better."

"I s'pose," muttered the redhead. Though he didn't sound too happy about it.

A strong silence descended. Seamus took this all to mean that, obviously, he wasn't to speak a word to anybody about them. Like he would even _want_ to. _'Oi, I just walked in on Harry and Ron possibly shagging'_ wasn't quite what would come to mind for pleasant conversation. Plus, the obvious threat of having his memory wiped was another strong point in persuading him to keep quiet.

"Well," Seamus said hesitantly. He wanted to get the bloody fuck out of here before they decided to _obliviate_ him after all. "I'm, er, happy for you both and everything. Just…remember to use silencing charms or something…"

Then he hurried out of the room.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

* * *

><p>When Dean rushed into Defense right before the bell rang, ducking behind a desk to avoid Snape's watchful eye, Seamus couldn't help but feel his embarrassment dissipate a tiny bit. It always did whenever Dean flashed that dazzling smile at him, despite the sheepish tone it was carrying while he darted across the room behind Snape's turned back. He saw Harry, who was sitting next to him, chuckle and give Dean silent applause as he reached their desk.<p>

He pretended to bow, giving Seamus a brief glance of arse.

He gripped his quill tightly and stared down at his parchment in order to stop himself. He couldn't keep going like this. Another boy. That was it. Someone else to hopefully dote over, who maybe didn't have a girlfriend.

God, this was so hard. How did blokes pick up other blokes? He wasn't the only gay person in the world, of course, for he had just found that out not minutes ago. But everyone else at Hogwarts seemed straighter than their bloody wands. How was one supposed to tell?

Obviously he had just found that Weasley and Potter were on it for each other, but he had _not _seen that coming. And that meant they were off limits. Plus, Ron was too lanky and Harry had _way _too many problems. Those were probably a nightmare for Weasley to deal with…

Hell, maybe Malfoy was gay. He certainly fit the stereotype. Aristocratic, almost feminine features, smooth skin, good taste in robes. But there was the fact that he was dating that pug-like excuse for a girl, Parkinson. While he had a bad taste in women, it was a taste in women nonetheless.

What about Macmillan? _Ernie _was such a dumb name though…

Michael Corner was pretty interesting, he supposed. Oh, wait. Ginevra had sunk her claws into_ him_ before Dean, so that was a sure sign.

Perhaps that Justin fellow with the long last name. What was it? Flinch-something. He had never had a girl hanging off him, from what Seamus remembered, and after the whole being-petrified thing he had been quite popular, too, which meant that he _must _have gotten an offer from a few petty shrews. He was a Hufflepuff, which definitely wasn't a Slytherin at least. He seemed nice, too. Curly hair and dimples.

Seamus tapped his quill to his chin, thinking wishfully now. He tried to imagine it. Being pressed up against a wall by him…feeling those lips on his…the guy was a bit taller than him, but not by much, so it wouldn't be awkward…yes, he could see it. Maybe if he hinted about, he could see how it went. Perhaps the bloke was gay too…

But with that, Dean sat down next to him, and all thoughts of other boys were wiped swiftly from his mind.

That is, until he saw Weasley staring at Harry with a sort of hungry look in his eye. Oh god.

He was then forced to look away exasperatedly. If they were being this obvious, the whole school would know by nightfall. He couldn't get those sounds out of his head, either. While they were his best mates, they sounded pretty…erotic, together. Panting and moaning, and the sounds of desperate snogging…among probably other things…

It certainly sounded fun, whatever they had been doing. Seamus suspected it wasn't 'the whole thing', because they had been dressed way too fast after they had…er…finished. And plus, didn't that require certain…materials? Like lube, or something? Hell, maybe they went dry, which didn't seem like it would be a very pleasant –

"Can I borrow a quill, mate?" Harry whispered next to him.

Seamus said nothing, feeling his face go ablaze, and handed one over.

* * *

><p>"Jesus, why would you even <em>want <em>one of these!" Seamus bellowed, avoiding a tentacle as it shot out of nowhere.

The Venomous Tentacula, which seemed extra agitated today, was snarling angrily as it fought off all of the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin students. Seamus wasn't even sure where the snarling was coming from. It didn't have a face or mouth, which was scary. Malfoy ducked out from the path of one swinging vine, causing Harry to be thumped in the back of the head as he fought off another from the front. Ron looked completely outraged, and started yelling at Malfoy, who was laughing. Seamus would have watched what the outcome was if he weren't currently trying to be the one who held down several vines from the base of the plant. This would allow several more students to get closer and aid him in restraining it.

"Hey mate," Dean panted, helping him hold the vines down so that they couldn't wrap around his neck. Seamus had thrown his body weight onto the flailing tentacles, and Dean mimicked his actions, bringing the two boys very close indeed. Their faces were almost touching. He could see a bead of sweat rolling down Dean's temple…

Parvati had managed to get close enough to the center, what with the boys holding down most of the dangerous appendages, and was now frantically digging out the old soil in order for them all to re-pot the Tentacula together. It had gotten so big that it had outgrown its old home, which was increasingly apparent as it was nearly overpowering them by putting up quite a fight.

"God job, Patil! Ten points to Gryffindor!" said Professor Sprout cheerily. She was watching from a safe distance, clear across the greenhouse.

"Wonder what she'd do if we weren't here to battle this thing," Seamus muttered, seizing a tentacle that had threatened to smack him in the face.

Dean laughed, but otherwise was too busy holding the limbs of the plant to respond. It was flailing stronger now, obviously under the impression that the students were trying to uproot it. If only it could speak, then Seamus would tell it to calm the fuck down and re-pot itself if it was going to act like this. But it didn't, so he couldn't.

"Who has the head?" Seamus barked suddenly, feeling an eerie calm from the plant they were battling.

Just then, Neville and Ron were flung backward, and the giant spiked flower, which was usually at the center of the plant, rose above all of the students menacingly.

* * *

><p>"So then she goes 'there's a snarfaluff in my bag, will you get it?' and I literally spent ten minutes looking for something she said was purple with yellow spots. I told her it wasn't there, but she insisted I look in the blah blah blah, blah blah blah. Blah…blah blah blah blah blahblah. Blah."<p>

Seamus laughed, though he didn't register what Neville was even saying. He hadn't listened one bit to the recollection of that mad girl Luna's weird delusions. She was a nutter, plain and simple. He may have misjudged Harry's sanity, true, but it was obvious to anyone that something definitely wasn't right with the Lovegoods. Their magazine was a good indication, if anything.

But no, Seamus was a bit distracted at the moment. Too distracted to listen to the relational problems Neville was currently relaying. He was instead trying to hide his longing of the body next to him. The one with light brown skin that had small rivulets of water running down every bloody curve. Every indentation. Every bulge of muscle that so tauntingly mocked him from afar. Of course, he wasn't that far. He was right next to him. So close that he could almost touch that glorious, tan, dripping wet body. Those dark brown curls that were soaked from the flow of his shower. The bright blue eyes that squinted slightly as he laughed at Neville's story. Those plump, dark lips that were always sort of pouty, even when he smiled to reveal his perfectly straight, white teeth that contrasted so with his dark –

"Oi Seamus, I'm gonna go get a start on that table for Arithmancy," Dean said, cutting into his thoughts.

Seamus panicked. A thrill of terror ran through him as he realized he had been staring directly at Dean's mouth. His eyes widened as he looked up into those crystal blue eyes. He was looking expectant for an answer. Had he not noticed his best mate eyeing him up while he was naked?

"Okay," Seamus replied vaguely, trying to calm his heart enough so that it didn't fly out of his chest.

Dean apparently _hadn't _noticed, for he simply nodded and padded back to the dorm where all of their beds were located. Seamus tried desperately not to watch him go, but his bare arse bounced slightly with each step, making him whimper quietly.

And then the horror just seemed to not want to quit today. Already facing his shower, luckily, Seamus looked down to see that he was ragingly hard. It was a surprise he hadn't even noticed yet, but he had been distracted of course, which was undoubtedly what had made him hard in the first place.

"Oh no," he squeaked, quietly enough so that no one would hear. He covered himself with both hands and turned to see that no one had noticed.

Hunching and feeling ridiculous, his eyes scanned the room. No one was looking at him. Neville was humming to himself, and Harry had an unfocused look in his eyes as he stared blindly at the wall. Ah, yes, he didn't have his glasses, so he probably couldn't see…

But then his eyes fell on Ron, who was looking directly at him. He looked angry.

Seamus's eyes widened. Had he seen the entire thing? How long had he been looking? His hands tightened over himself, desperately trying to hide the erection. The erection he had gained from looking at his best friend. Well, wait, Weasley was gay too, so why would he even –

Seamus yelped as he felt something hard collide with his chest. Possibly a bottle? He looked incredulously at Ron, who had just thrown the object and now appeared to be quite furious. How could he possibly judge _him _when Weasley was running around with Potter behind everyone's back?

"Would you stop cowering over there?" Weasley said angrily. "I'm not bloody looking at you or whatever you're afraid of!"

Gaping, Seamus stared back.

Ron turned around irritably and started scrubbing his own body a bit roughly. He began muttering, though loudly enough for everyone in the showers to hear.

"Just because I like blokes doesn't mean I'm ogling everyone in sight!" he spat, shutting off the tap and storming out of the bathroom.

Harry sighed, put his glasses back on, and put on a towel. He left too, though not in a huff like Weasley. Seamus couldn't tell if he were angry as well, or if he was simply going to tame Weasley's flaming temper. As soon as the door shut, Neville turned to him.

"Ron's right, Seamus," he said calmly.

Seamus took a moment here to sort some of this newfound information. Obviously, Neville knew about Harry and Ron as well, or this would be a very different conversation. Also, everyone seemed to be under the impression that he was homophobic in some way, because he was guarding his dick? What, a bloke can't hold his own junk without it being brought into question? At least he wasn't wanking or something in front of everybody. Or having bloody _relations_ in the dorm, like _some _people…

But this was good. If Nev thought that he was afraid of them or something, then his own infatuation with Dean could be hidden. And the fact that he was currently sporting wood. Clearly, Neville wasn't prejudiced against blokes liking other blokes, a sure sign being that he wasn't shunning Harry and Ron. But Seamus didn't want everyone to know how pathetic he was, pining after his best friend who was clearly straighter than a measuring stick. Yes, it was best to tell Neville later, once he had found somebody other than Dean to pant after like a dog.

"I know," he said, doing his best to look ashamed. It wasn't difficult. Seamus turned around to face the shower again, effectively hiding his erection until his dick could settle down. "I don't know what's wrong with me…"

"I sort of get it, though," Neville said, sounding sympathetic. "I _never_ would have seen that coming."

Seamus snorted. He had more surprises coming his way, then.

"Yeah, it is a bit of a shock," Seamus said truthfully. "But I'm not…you know. I don't hate them for it or anything. I'm just trying to get used to it, is all."

There. He didn't seem like so much of an arse, right?

"I know, me too. Just…just go easy on them, yeah?" Neville said gently. "I'm sure it's difficult, you know. Not having anyone else know about it and all. Must be hard to have that kind of a secret weighing on your shoulders…"

If only he knew how right he was.


	3. Soith

**Author's Note: **Okay. I realize that a lot of you probably were under the impression that I was dead or something. However, I'm alive, and have written a chapter for several fics that I'm currently working on in the hopes that you all won't kill me. A fair few should be updated today, so there. I WAS gonna do it yesterday, but I figured with the whole internet strike thing, I should try and show my support as well.

**Relatively Important: **For this chapter, I have added a few footnotes, so watch for the little stars by a few select words. Also, there's more Gaeilge (Irish) language in this chapter, so watch for that. To find out what the hell Seamus is actually saying, you can simply copy and paste into google translate. However, if you guys simply want me to put the translations at the bottom, leave that in a review and I'll do that for you guys. Otherwise, happy reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Oh Merlin's pants! <em>Why <em>did I let you talk me into taking this feckin' stupid class?" Seamus said irritably.

He was staring down at his Arithmancy tables and trying to figure out what the bloody hell they even meant. They clearly couldn't be right, for they currently predicted that he would die at age twelve. Even if he suffered some freak assassination at this very moment, the mark would be off by about four years already.

Seamus wasn't the best at math, which probably should have been a good sign to _not _take Arithmancy, of all subjects. When he had gone to muggle primary school, a suggestion from his father, he had been too busy informing the other students of his mother's entertaining magical endeavors instead of paying attention to the mathematics instructor. Due to his 'fabricated stories to the other children', he had been pulled out within two days and instead was homeschooled by his mother. Unfortunately, even her firm methods of teaching weren't enough to build up his knowledge with numbers. All of this, accompanied with his failure in Professor Trelawney's class, should have been a clear sign to just drop Arithmancy _and_ Divination, and give it up as a bad job. Clearly, his future was destined to remain a mystery, and he should just stop bloody trying to predict it already.

But Dean had wanted him to take it, so naturally, he had agreed on the spot.

"Because you love me," Dean answered, grinning mischievously.

Seamus gulped. If he only knew how dangerously close that statement was to reality, he wouldn't be throwing it around so lightly.

"Now, if you have added the number of syllables in your first and last name to the number of syllables in your middle name or names, then you may look on the chart to see how many children you are to have mid-life," Professor Vector said at the head of the class. "Unfortunately, mid-life refers back to chapter twelve, when we calculated our life-span using the number of steps we take throughout the day multiplied by the number of letters in the first half of your first name and the second half of your last name. If you had an odd number of letters in either name, you were instructed to round upwards instead of downwards. However, when we divide _that _number by the number of times your heart beats within a minute, we usually come up with a non-decimal. If not, then you are infertile. Any questions?"

Seamus's head thudded on the desk.

* * *

><p>Eventually, the horrid class ended, and Seamus was free for another two days until he would be forced to explain his miscalculations to Professor Vector again. He gave a mighty sigh as he walked out into the hallway. Clean, non-mathematic air. Just the way magic intended.<p>

Dean chuckled at his obvious relief, gazing over at him with those capturing blue eyes. Seamus looked away so that he wouldn't have to see them.

"What do we have next?" he asked, shaking his sandy hair out of his eyes. His mother would no doubt force him into a chair and cut it short again once he went home for the holidays. He sort of liked it a bit longer like this, though. He was more able to hide that way.

"Transfiguration," Dean said simply.

"Oh, are we doing that thing with the Puffskeins today?" Seamus asked, his eyes widening.

Seamus wasn't exactly sure, but he reckoned messing with the gender of a species could only go badly, especially for himself. His spells, when done wrong, tended to end in…explosive situations. Not all of them, mind. He had long since mastered a great deal of spells due to proper instruction and the occasional calming draught. Apparently, it was his hyper-active minor anxiety that caused him to become too nervous before performing a spell or to panic at the last minute, which then resulted in effects that mirrored his weird condition. Madame Pomfery said it was a slight imbalance that needed a bit of tending to, but his parents said he was just dramatic. However, Madame Pomfery had said that there was no harm in coming in every so often for a light calming draught to help him with his studies. Truthfully, he wished he had them all the time, but Seamus had just been to see her last week, so he should be stable enough to perform this new spell.

There was no need to worry.

It was just a bit disturbing at the same time. He knew that, if _he_ were a Puffskein, he certainly wouldn't want some bloke coming up and transfiguring his bod into a fhaighin.

They entered the room and sat down. Nervously, as was habit, Seamus checked around the room to see if Harry and Ron were there yet. He didn't fancy sitting next to them today when they would be examining the sexual organs of animals. Things were uncomfortable enough with them around now that he had to try and block out images of them all up against each other and…other things.

As if on cue, both of them walked through the door, accompanied by Hermione Granger. Seamus wondered if she knew about their activities while she wasn't present. Judging by the carefree way she was speaking to them and laughing, he guessed not. Not that he had expected them to tell a soul anyways. _He_ certainly hadn't about himself.

Luckily, they sat across the room, so he wasn't forced to relinquish another quill to Potter.

"Alright class. Class!" Professor McGonagall barked as she stood behind her desk. Voices died down under her heavy stare and she continued. "Today, we will be transforming Puffskeins as discussed on Tuesday's lesson. Now, I want it understood that I expect a _mature _approach to this," her eyes narrowed. "There will be no need for juvenile behavior in this class. Is that understood?"

A reluctant murmur of agreement travelled through the room. They all knew what it meant. No making fun of the Puffskeins' privates.

She passed out the little fluffy balls of fur, each a different primary color, and told them to get to work. As soon as Seamus's Puffskein landed on his desk with a barely audible squeak, he pulled out his wand and took a deep, calming breath. Pointing his wand at the small ball of fur, he concentrated on the purpose of the spell. He might as well get the horrific parts over with sooner rather than later.

"_Muto Genitalis!" _he announced, pointing his wand at the poor unsuspecting Puffskein.

It squeaked again, but otherwise just sat there and continued sniffing at his parchment notes. The little fluff-ball didn't change.

"What? I said it right, didn't I?" Seamus said indignantly.

Dean, who had been observing over his shoulder, nodded. He didn't seem to notice that his own Puffskein had partially consumed half of his eraser*****.

"Sounded right to me, mate."

Seamus lifted the tiny creature and peered between its stubby little legs. Apparently it had worked, there just weren't any other defining features pertaining to gender besides the obvious. What had once been a boy Puffskein was now, clearly, a female.

"Well that's lovely," Seamus huffed, setting the small animal down again. It shuffled over to his notes and began nibbling on the corner. "That's the way we have to tell? I don't fancy having to look down there every time I do this."

"Not to mention, why on Earth would anybody ever need this spell in the first place?" Dean added dryly. He pointed his own wand at his respective Puffskein and repeated the same spell.

The Puffskein squeaked, just as Seamus's had, but otherwise made no acknowledgement that its genitalia had just switched to that of a different sex. Seamus couldn't help but think that, again, were he in the Puffskein's shoes, he would have definitely noticed. Perhaps gender identity wasn't as important to animals…

The lesson continued on, however, despite the Puffskeins' lack of activity. To his slight surprise, all of Seamus's attempts worked without flaw, and he managed to switch his Puffskein several times successfully. He was glad, too. He figured it would have been a bit traumatic if the small creature were to suddenly explode or spontaneously combust.

"Well done mister Finnigan," McGonagall said curtly as he handed his Puffskein back to her at the end of the lesson.

"Sorry mate," Seams grimaced at the little fluff ball. It squeaked and stared back with its huge innocent eyes. If it only knew the horrible experiments he had just put it through, it probably wouldn't be nuzzling his hand so affectionately like that.

McGonagall took the poor creature and put it back in the box with the others. It was lost in the mass of multicolored fur, never to be recognized by him again. It was here that Seamus still realized how badly he had wanted a Puffskein before, enough to even knick one from a shop ages ago. Though perhaps, after this lesson, he could live without one…

"I've got to go to the Jacks******," Seamus said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. They wandered out the door and Dean gave him an odd look.

"Mad Irishman, I have no idea what you just said," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"I may be mad, but Tá fir na hÉireann go tarraingteach," Seamus replied cockily. He walked down the hall, leaving Dean in his wake as he shook his head and laughed.

Luckily, there was a bathroom just down the hall, and so Seamus slipped inside quickly. He hadn't been lying just to get away. He had to piss like a banshee.

Shivering at the thought of the horrible creature, one he had seen in his boggart more times than he was okay with, he tried to avoid thinking of death and crazy screaming women and instead use the loo like he had originally intended.

Sweet relief.

When he was done and all that, tucking everything back where it was concealed from the general public, and when he had washed his hands, Seamus turned to the door to head down for lunch. Perhaps he would get there in time to sit next to Dean and his sniveling harpy of a girlfriend.

Joy.

But when he saw a certain redheaded Weasley standing by the door, eerily quiet, he almost jumped out of his very skin.

"Woah, Jesus Ron, you scared the shite out of me – "

"Oy, what's up with you?" Ron cut across him, sounding stern.

Seamus shifted uncomfortably, wondering what exactly he was planning. Perhaps they had changed their minds about the whole memory-wiping thing. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean you've been acting weird for a while. Ever since you found out about me and Harry."

"I dunno what you're talking about," he said stubbornly. What was he supposed to say? He was having difficulty getting their freaky noises out of his thoughts, and every time he saw them was like walking in on their 'private' moment all over again? Not likely.

"Is it because we're in the same dorm, or something?" Ron asserted, gesturing a bit wildly. "Because it's not like we're gonna come up and _molest_ you."

"I didn't even say – "

"Well then, what?" Weasley's eyes narrowed in a demanding way.

He gulped slightly, stepping back. The man was insane. The thought that _Seamus_, who had been doting after his best friend for ages, was actually some sort of homophobic coward was laughable. He had realized he was gay way before Weasley had even started up with Potter. Which, he still had no bloody idea how that would even occur in the first place_. _If Seamus had thought that both of them were straight, then obviously he was missing something here.

"I just…you two have been friends for a while. How did that even happen?" he muttered. He couldn't help it. He was curious.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "I realized that he liked me and I liked him, so we…er…started seeing each other. I took a chance and decided to go for it."

Seamus couldn't believe it was that easy. There had to have been loads of difficult things in the way before they had even _thought _of getting all cozy in bed. Hadn't there?

"But…how did you know he liked you?" Seamus whispered. He didn't know why he was being so quiet, but it felt almost too secret to even discuss in an empty toilet.

"I…er…well, that's not important," Ron said hastily. "I just did."

Seamus felt his shoulders slump. He had been hoping for some clues. Some way to make his search easier. Some way to find someone like him, like Harry and Ron. Someone who was into blokes too. But no, either it had just been that easy, like everything was for bloody Potter and Weasley, or Ron wasn't keen on sharing.

"Wait…so why were you acting so weird then?" Ron asked, looking suspicious.

Seamus sighed heavily.

"I suppose…if I know your secret…" he reasoned with himself. If Ron and Harry knew his, maybe he wouldn't keep being ambushed while he was trying to piss. They would be on an even footing. Plus, if they told anyone, he could ruin them in return... "Okay," he said, closing his eyes.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding wary.

"Well…" Seamus started slowly, "You know how Dean and I are like, best mates and stuff?"

"Yeah," Ron said, blue eyes growing wide.

"Well, I sort of…er…I mean…ergh, I dunno," he backpedalled, stepping farther away and scratching the back of his neck. Perhaps he shouldn't. He had never told a soul, except for his mother. No one…

"You like him?" Ron said, looking shocked.

Seamus flinched. He could feel his face ignite, bringing with it a strong blush. Damn Weasley and his perceptiveness…

"Yeah," he said in defeat. It was too late now…

"Really?" Ron said incredulously.

"I think so," Seamus said forebodingly. Like it was even a question anymore. "You can't tell anyone, though! Especially not him."

Ron held up his hands, backing away slightly.

"I won't," he sounded reassuring. "I'm just…wow."

"I know," Seamus groaned, leaning against the wall. God, why did he have to open his stupid mouth? Now he probably looked pathetic. Driven along by hopeless longing, wanting someone he clearly couldn't have…

"Wait, so in the showers yesterday, why were you hiding?" Ron asked, frowning.

Seamus groaned again and buried his face in his hands, feeling mortified. Perceptiveness…

"Merlin…he was showering next to me! I couldn't…I mean…God, and then everybody looked at me…" he choked out from behind his hands. He might as well get it all out now. Admitting that he had been hiding an erection while trying not to ogle his best friend was just another tick on the long list of horrors…

"I'm sorry," Ron gasped, sounding as mortified as he felt. "I had no idea, I just assumed – "

"No, I know," Seamus said. He had heard Weasley's accusations. "It actually gave me an excuse to tell Nev. I just…I dunno what to do."

"Well, you know Dean's dating Ginny, right?" Ron said sympathetically.

"Yeah, I know," Seamus said sadly. As if it had escaped _anybody's_ notice. But the thought of Dean dating, and his interest in girls, reminded him of how much of a shock Harry and Ron's whole _thing _had been to him. He recalled a few memories of the raven-haired boy and his charm with the females, which confused Seamus even more now. "But wasn't Harry dating that Cho girl last year? And Parvati before?" he said, wondering what Weasley's take on this was.

"Er…yeah," Ron said hesitantly.

"But I know it's hopeless," Seamus said, slumping back against the wall. There was no mistaking Ginny's effect on Dean, just as there was no mistaking what Harry and Ron did in the privacy of their bed-hangings. Everyone was either snogging or groping someone else, and he had no one…

"Maybe not," Weasley said quickly. "I know that Ginny and Dean have been fighting a lot recently. I'm not too sure I want her slobbering all over another boy anyways, so maybe, if we fuel the fire a bit…"

"Really?" Seamus looked up. He hadn't really stuck around enough to see the treachery that was that little coppertop hanging all over Dean, so he had no idea what their relationship was actually like. All he had was Dean's occasional complaints about the girl. But it was true that they had just had an argument not long ago. About the date at the lake…just a few days ago…

"But there's still the issue of him _wanting_ to date her that's the problem," Ron said, grimacing. "You don't know if he…you know, likes blokes at all?"

"No," Seamus shook his head. "He's only dated her, and he obviously won't just mention it over lunch one day, so I have no idea."

They had obviously never talked about it, or he wouldn't be moping around behind Dean's back like this. Plus, he hated to admit it, but he didn't want to break up Dean's relationship if it meant that they were bloody happy together. He was fine with hating her from a distance, but to actually turn them against each other would feel…well…evil, to say the least. He had to let them do it on their own. If Weasley was right, perhaps it would be sooner than he thought…

"Well maybe you could…er…" Ron sighed. "Look, when I knew Harry liked me, I started hinting at it a lot. So maybe, if you just say things without _actually_ sounding like you're making a move, you can see how he reacts. Stuff with double meanings, or something like that."

"Okay," Seamus said, confused.

"Or, I dunno," Ron continued, sounding as though he were instructing a small child in the ways of seduction, "you could like, walk around with your shirt off, 'accidentally' brush against him, wrestle around a bit too close. You see what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get it," he said, nodding. He actually chuckled, and managed not to feel so miserable. Weasley was giving him advice on how to pick up blokes?

"So, are you gonna stop being weird around us now?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I'll try," Seamus said, grimacing. "But…you know...I _did _hear a few things…so it's been hard to…you know…look at either of you right."

As it rightly should.

"Sorry," Ron said, laughing and blushing slightly. "Well, I have to go to Potions. See you later…"

He turned to leave, and Seamus felt glad to still have his memories in his own head. He watched Weasley haul the door open and prepare to walk outside.

"Oi, Ron?"

He paused at the door and looked back.

"Yeah?"

"Er…thanks…" Seamus said awkwardly. For what, he wasn't sure.

Weasley smiled. "No problem."

* * *

><p>"Soith," Seamus muttered venomously as he watched from across the room.<p>

He was completing his nightly routine by distantly insulting Ginny Weasley while she continued to use her beastly woman charms on Dean. She pulled out all the bloody stops, too. Batting her eyelashes, stroking his hand lovingly, cooing sweet nothings into his ear. To Seamus's grim satisfaction, however, he didn't seem to be buying it this time. Dean looked irritated and put out, as if he wished he were anywhere else. Seamus knew he shouldn't feel so delighted while his best friend was suffering, but it was difficult not to. Perhaps he was more evil than he had originally thought.

She was losing. They were fighting, and she was losing. Perhaps, in the end, it would be _Seamus _who won this time…

He had little hope.

In order to avoid the nauseating scene, Seamus let his eyes scan lazily around the common room. He had a mountain of homework that he could very well be doing, but hell if he wouldn't procrastinate as long as possible on it. He wondered if Weasley would be able to knick Granger's star chart for him. He still hadn't finished it yet…

When his eyes fell on Ron, though, he noticed his face was extremely pink. His blue eyes kept darting up to Harry, who was sitting nonchalantly across from him. It didn't escape Seamus's notice that their bags were strategically placed at either side of the table, blocking whatever was going on underneath from the view of the common room.

"Oh Merlin," he sighed, looking away. Now he had two things to avoid staring at.

Across the room, Parvati was nattering on about her most recent piece of jewelry to anyone who would listen. That group seemed to be dwindling, however, and her high-pitched giggles became more desperate as students began to wander away from the crowd. And he thought _he _had issues with being noticed…

Longbottom was absent from the common room altogether. Well, that was interesting, concerning the sudden relationship status change he had gone through recently. He was probably out snogging the insane blonde girl at this very moment. However, if anyone needed a good snogging, it was Neville. Good on him, really.

"Going to bed!"

The dull roar of the common room faltered slightly as Weasley stood there, looking a bit mad. His face was red and his hair tousled, giving him the appearance of someone who either had a strong fever, or was immensely sexually frustrated.

The redhead flew up the stairs at lightning speed, the whip of his robes being the only sign of his departure.

"I should probably go too," Potter said hurriedly, stuffing his books back into his bag. "Perhaps he's coming down with that Dragon Pox or whatever…"

Seamus rolled his eyes. Harry rushed up the stairs after Weasley, sounding no more convincing than that rumor of the Quintaped that had supposedly inhabited the boy's bathroom on the third floor.

Idiots.

He let his head loll back against the cushy armchair, trying to regain a bit of the happiness that seemed to be all but vanished this year. He was alone, silent, and brooding now, which unfortunately seemed to be the new norm. How was he meant to ignore his homework if real life was just as boring as the actual work itself? Seamus knew that tomorrow was the day they left for holiday, at least, so he would be able to entertain himself more at home. Perhaps he should actually get some of the assignments done beforehand, and then he wouldn't have to work on them later.

He chuckled at his own little joke. Who was he, Granger?

Twisting awkwardly in the armchair, much like a cat, Seamus reached down to pick up the abandoned issue of _'Mounting the Best Monthly'_ that somebody had left there. He already had a new broom, of course, but it was better entertainment than hearing about the self-polishing charm on Patil's necklace that she was bragging about. Though, he hadn't known those existed. Perhaps he could manage to place it on his broom. But then, his servicing kit wouldn't get any use, and he rather liked the feeling of making it all bright and shiny after a good ride…

"Dean, I'm just saying, it's getting stupid!"

"Ginny, I can't help it if I like _buying_ you things."

"Well you make me feel like some sort of poor trash because I can't give you anything except – "

"I'm not asking you for anything!"

"Yeah, but _two _Christmas presents? It's not even Christmas yet!"

"Fine! Since you can't just say bloody 'thank you' like a decent human being, I won't get you anything at all! Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?"

"Don't be an arse!"

"I'm not being an arse! I'm just trying to give you a fucking present!" Dean bellowed.

Everyone in the common room was watching by now, enthralled by the loud row. Seamus's arm was still reaching for the magazine, but he was frozen in place, joining the hushed spectators.

"I don't even wear jewelry," she snapped, her brown eyes ablaze.

"Well my bloody mistake," Dean retorted, raising his hands in mock defense. "I thought maybe since you had said 'oh that's pretty', that perhaps you liked it! But apparently 'oh that's pretty' means 'don't buy me a necklace, Dean, because I'll only hate it later'!"

"I was just commenting on it, I didn't mean you had to buy it and make a big production!"

"_A production?" _he said sounding outraged. "I gave it to you in the hallway between classes! How is that a bloody production?"

"Oh, you were hanging around all proud like you were the Minister himself," she sneered. "'Look at all my wealth, Ginny! Dance beneath the flow of my many Galleons'!"

"I hung around to see you open – you know what? You're just – " Dean rubbed his forehead and laughed shortly, " – you're just not a nice person, Gin. I didn't flaunt anything, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not the richest person in the world."

"Then how could you afford something like that?" she brandished at a silvery object on one of the tables next to them.

"Do you even have bloody _ears?_" Dean gestured wildly. "I said I bought it for you! I spent all the money I _had _on that thing, because I thought you might fucking like it!"

"You – all your money?" Ginny scoffed. She was clearly caught off guard by this statement, yet trying to keep her bitchy demeanor.

"Yes, idiot!" he shouted. "You know what – just take it back and get whatever you want. Happy fucking Christmas."

Dean stormed off up the stairs, heading for the boys' dorm.

An immensely uncomfortable silence followed his absence. The redhead growled, snatched up the necklace, and stormed off up to her own dormitory. Her fading footsteps echoed up the stairs, stomping heavily all the way.

The second that wooden door slammed shut, everyone started talking at once.

Accusatory murmurs echoed throughout the common room. Muttered statements of 'I can't believe that!' and 'what a horrible thing to say!' were exchanged. The rumors that followed this one wouldn't be pleasant, and especially not in the Weasley girl's favor.

Seamus tried not to smile. It nearly broke his face muscles, but he managed to keep the glee on the inside for once.

She had completely been in the wrong. There was no way to deny it this time. Her attitude, her nasty assumptions, and her ugly expression throughout the whole thing clearly proved that she had blown it big time. The fact that she thought Dean was wealthy was obviously a sign that she barely knew him at all anyways. If Dean had ever given _him _something so expensive, he would take it as a bloody compliment.

Didn't she know that Dean practically had as many brothers as she did? Didn't she know that his stepfather was a barman and his mother was a housemaid? Didn't she know that his parents worked their fingers to the bone, only to obtain muggle money that he only got a small portion of and always had to transfer at Gringott's before he could spend it? Didn't she know how important it had been that he had bought that stupid necklace?

Seamus felt the thrill of happiness inside him turn to sickening guilt. Dean had made a gesture of kindness towards the girl, and she had thrown it back in his face. His best friend was suffering because of her. Again.

"Soith," Seamus sighed, heaving himself out of his chair.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" he said tentatively, standing just outside the curtains of Dean's four-poster.<p>

"Yes," came an exasperated voice.

"Want me to bugger off?"

"Not sure yet."

"You can reserve the right to kick me out," Seamus said hopefully.

"Fair enough. Come on in."

Seamus opened the curtain and slipped inside. Dean was sitting cross-legged atop the blankets, picking moodily at a small hole in the fabric. His dark, loose curls hung in his eyes, causing a shadow to fall over the top of his face.

He didn't look happy.

Seamus clambered atop the bed as well, sitting opposite Dean. He hesitated.

"That wasn't nice," he said simply, pointing out the obvious.

"No, it wasn't," Dean sighed, not looking up from his important task.

"What d'you think – ?"

"It's just stupid!" Dean burst out angrily. He continued in a hush, probably under the impression that Harry and Ron were asleep. Seamus suspected not, however. "She just does that all the time. Whenever money comes up, she freaks! I get that she hasn't got any, I do! But what the bloody hell do I do! I just wanted to – to get her something nice so that she could have it, you know? Isn't that the point of a present? To give people things they can't get for themselves?"

Seamus nodded. He had a point.

"But it's not just that. She seems so closed off all the time," Dean said, rubbing his forehead agitatedly. Seamus nodded again, letting him rant it all out. It looked long overdue. "I mean, she always has, but I figured after a while she'd get over it, you know? Open up a bit more. But she hasn't, and now I think that's just the way she is. All monotone and…boring."

"Well, maybe she doesn't want what you want," Seamus said hopefully. "Maybe she thinks, you know, by giving her that, it's a bit more serious for you than it is for her."

"I've been thinking that for a while now," Dean said sadly, running a hand through his dark hair. "That maybe…I dunno. Maybe she's done with me."

A grave silence followed these words. Seamus was unsure what to think.

"What d'you mean, exactly?" Seamus said carefully.

"I dunno," Dean replied warily. "Sometimes I feel like…like I'm being used. I mean, it's stupid, because it's been too long for that, hasn't it? If this was some weird vengeance date for Michael or whatever, she wouldn't have hung on this long."

"Yeah," Seamus said nervously.

"And sometimes it's going great, and we're happy," he said, raising his head a little. "But then other times it seems like she doesn't even like me at all. Like just a few minutes ago, in fact. I dunno what to make of it. I just thought it was mood swings or something birds have to deal with, right? But I don't hear of it from anybody else."

"What about Neville and Lovegood?" Seamus said. "They're bound to have problems, especially with how mad she is and all."

"Not from what I hear," Dean pouted. He raised his knees and drew them towards his chest in a brooding way. "Sounds right peachy the way he describes it. Even _with _him constantly having to check for Swindleorfs or whatever."

"Ah," Seamus hesitated, not wanting to say what was really on his mind.

"She does mention Harry a lot, too," Dean said in a biting tone, as if he were reading Seamus's mind.

He grimaced slightly.

"Yeah, I was…I was wondering about that," he said slowly.

"What d'you mean?" Dean shot.

"Well, it's just that…every girl has at least mentioned Potter at some point. But she seems to do it…a fair bit more," Seamus finished carefully.

It was true. The few times Seamus had suffered her presence, each one had consisted of no fewer than three comments about 'The Chosen One'. She may not know how obvious it was, and perhaps not many people picked up on it, but he had had his suspicions.

"They're friends, though," Dean reasoned. He sounded a bit pleading.

"Are they, though?" Seamus said, raising an eyebrow. "Ron's closer than she is, after all."

_A lot closer than anyone suspects,_ he added silently.

Dean sat up straighter, looking a bit defiant.

"Well, so what then? D'you think I'm some sort of…pawn, or something?"

"No," Seamus said quickly.

He wasn't even bloody sure himself. Seamus didn't want to plant seeds for the sole reason of his own benefit. That wasn't the right way to go about this, no matter how much he fancied his best friend.

He just didn't want to see Dean get hurt.

The other boy sighed and rested his chin on his knees. He still looked unhappy, and Seamus couldn't decide what to feel.

On the one hand, he was allowing hope to build, filling his chest with the prospect of Dean being all to himself again. If he was doubting the morality behind his girlfriend, perhaps this would be the end after all. But on the other, Seamus knew that even _if_ Dean broke it off, or the Weasley girl tossed him aside, it would still be a sad ending. He would be upset, and it would spoil Seamus's victory. And Dean would still be straight.

Seamus wouldn't win. He would never win. Not against Ginevra, and not against any of the other girls in the world. Dean would pick all of them before he picked Seamus.

"Say something cool," Dean's voice muttered quietly.

"Riamh bheidh mé bua," Seamus choked out.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'have a nice day'."

* * *

><p><strong>Footnotes:<strong>

***** At this point, I was fully aware that 'erasers' over there are referred to as 'rubbers'. However, I just couldn't do it and make it sound not-raunchy in my head. I'm sorry.

****** Irish slang for 'bathroom'.


	4. Done

**Author's Note: **Alright, I'm sorry for being so late with updating this. Apparently I've been suffering from these headaches, and I didn't realize how much they were affecting me. I only found out that they were when I took and aspirin this afternoon and wrote this chapter so quickly because I was finally able to think straight. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I'll try and not die for you guys. At least until I finish the story, lol.

* * *

><p>Seamus sighed and climbed into bed.<p>

After nearly an hour of muttered conversation, in which Dean seemed heavily depressed, he had finally gotten tired from fuming. They had decided to go to bed in order to be well-rested for wallowing tomorrow as well.

Dean still hadn't decided on what he would do about the situation. Seamus had been too afraid and unmotivated to suggest he just drop the girl. She was an outright cow and was clearly proving it without any help from him. But, he wanted Dean to realize it on his own, not to be goaded into making the right choice. If he wanted to suffer at the tongue of that harpy, then it would be his own fault for staying with her, not Seamus's. It wasn't like them breaking it off would have any effect on his own life anyways.

However, that fact did little to ease the burning in his eyes when he laid his head to rest.

Seamus didn't want to cry over this. He was done. Done with following after Dean like some sort of pet. Done with this undying yearn for his best friend. Done with having an ache in his chest every time he looked at that dark skin, those pouty lips, and those big blue eyes.

Done.

He closed his own eyes tightly, fighting away the erection that seemed to so willingly pop up whenever he recalled Dean's features. Someone else. He had to start thinking of someone else. There was no hope, and no reason for him to hang on to these feelings that would never be reciprocated.

Seamus thought of the other boy. Of Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff. Of his smooth white skin and deep brown eyes. He had caught the stare of him just today, merely passing in the hall, and thought he saw the glint of a not-so-innocent nature in the look that he had been given. Just a passing glance, but enough for his imagination to run with.

He reached down, ignoring the wet feeling on the side of his cheek, and slid his hand almost absently into his sleep trousers.

The Justin bloke was pretty nice-looking. He had hair that looked really soft, and was so dark brown that it almost was black. He was probably good in bed too, for it looked like he had experience in that area. Everyone who said Hufflepuffs were all goody-two-shoes was bloody lying. That bloke had had sex with somebody. He didn't have that innocent sparkle in his eye that all the other clearly virginal students did. One that Seamus himself probably possessed.

He wondered what it would be like, to be fucked by another bloke. Probably hot as hell. Someone behind you, pushing their cock into you… It didn't scare Seamus as he suspected it might some people. Sex had to feel good, after all, or why would people do it all the time? Having a warm body against yours, thrusting hard and eager, feeling the breath on the back of your neck…

Seamus could hear his own breathing getting heavier the more he teased himself. He pulled slowly along his own cock, imagining someone else's hand over his, bringing them both pleasure as his body was used from behind. It would be dirty, and forbidden, and all the things that sex was supposed to be. But it would be great all the same. A sign that someone in this world found him attractive, wanted to do such naughty things to him within the confines of a room. Preferably dark. He could imagine Justin's throaty voice, his sighs as he took his pleasure. The other boy would probably let his hands wander, that body moving slowly behind him, skimming over heated flesh and shivering limbs. Seamus would whine, too engrossed in the feeling, how pleasant it felt to be touched by another. To be wanted. He would touch him, stroke him, run his hands over Seamus's body as he pushed firmly into him, penetrating his arse, thrusting repeatedly.

And Seamus would moan, turning his head to hear words breathed into his ear. Filthy words that he would never dream of saying himself, but which were so easily muttered with a light chuckle in such solitude. Hot breath on his neck, a soft nip of teeth occasionally teasing him. Pleasured sensations that would make him whimper in delight. Someone giving him their utmost attention, worshipping his body as he was taken roughly. Dark skin pressed against his own, loose curls falling against his shoulder from the panting boy behind him. He would turn his head just enough to capture a heated kiss from plump, silky lips, with bright blue eyes meeting his own.

Seamus stifled his voice as he cried out softly, not wanting to alert the other boys of his orgasm. He came, tensing his body and biting his lower lip. Alone, behind the shielding curtains of his four-poster bed.

Done.

* * *

><p>The next day passed boringly. Lesson. Corridor. Mindless chatter. Lesson. Corridor. Mindless chatter. Lesson. Corridor. Lunch. More mindless chatter. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson.<p>

Common room.

It was all his life seemed to be. Dean had put on a brave face for most of the day, only once turning his nose up when the redheaded girl had tried to ambush him in the corridor. Her pleading voice rang out, apologies tumbling from her lips as they so rightly should. Yet they fell on deaf ears. Seamus should have been excited. Dean was snubbing her. Dean was free…

It did nothing. So what if Dean was free? Seamus had no business to be happy at such a thing. His world had turned grey with the realization of his hopelessness. Dean was there, always there, and would never leave him alone. But then he would always _be_ alone, too. Always free, but not really free at all. Always so close to what he wanted, but always so achingly far away. Forever. There would be class. There would be the corridors. There would be chatter. And then there would be death. That was the exciting play of his life. That was what he had to look forward to.

Death. Finally being fully alone, where no one could come and stand next to him. No 'hey, Seamus, look at this new…!' or 'hey mate, something wrong?'… No one could be by his side, while leaving him so utterly alone and resentful that he was forced to grow up and realize that his life was meant to lead to one thing. Death.

Seamus shook his head fervently while sitting in one of the overstuffed armchairs, slightly perturbed at the morbid tone his thoughts had taken. He still had a life. He was going to be a healer. The best healer at St. Mungo's. He just had to hold on. He just had to keep living, and maybe one day his life wouldn't be the utter rubbish bin that it was now. He couldn't give up because of one boy. A boy that was so fucking clueless that Seamus was actually starting to resent him now. He supposed anger was a bit better than hopeless doting, but still, he was torn into pieces over that one boy.

It was a few seconds before Seamus realized what was happening. His silent brooding, which had gotten so dramatic these days, had been distracting him from his own bodily functions. He looked down to see his own chest heaving, the air itself seeming desperately scarce for some reason.

"Oh no," he gasped. He would have spoken normally, were it not so difficult to draw breath at all. It almost felt as though his lungs were starting to close off, unwilling to carry on with their purpose anymore. He clutched at the front of his shirt, trying to bring his breathing back, trying to hold off whatever fit he was starting to slip into. He started to feel dizzy, and realized it was too late. Seamus launched himself out of his chair and ran towards the portrait hole.

Someone asked if anything was wrong, but he couldn't bother to take the time. He clambered through the portrait and dropped down into the hall, looking left and right as he tried to clear his head enough to remember where the hospital wing was. He shook his head and turned left. It was always left. He had been in this castle for nearly six years. The fact that he couldn't remember something so simple was a bit worrying, as much as his rapid heart-rate was.

He sprinted down the stairs, taking them two at a time due to his blissfully long legs. His shoes clicked on the stone floor, the quick _tap tap tap _echoing off the walls like some sort of clock, marking the time he had before he suffocated or exploded or whatever the bloody hell was happening to him. This had never occurred before. He didn't get so worried as to _actually _have a heart-attack. He had only been bloody joking about the whole 'death' thing…

He could hear his desperate gasps as air became harder to come by. It should have been all around, surrounding him in the atmosphere. But whoever had proven such a fact was lying. There wasn't enough of it. He was going to die.

Torches flew by as he ran. He could see the giant doors to the hospital wing, they were right there. But why were they getting so dark and fuzzy?

* * *

><p>He woke up to someone forcing something down his throat. A liquid of some type, that tasted mildly of strawberries and cream.<p>

Seamus choked and coughed, opening his eyes to the perpetrator. It was Madame Pomfery, wearing her ever-stern expression and removing a potion bottle from his mouth. He sat up quickly and realized he was in a bed.

"What happened?" he said shakily, feeling strangely limp in all of his extremities.

"Panic attack, Finnigan," she said softly. It contrasted with her hard expression. "Are you feeling well?"

"Ye – yes," he gulped. Seamus reached up and rubbed at his chest, his lungs having quieted down considerably. They seemed to be accepting oxygen again, which was a good sign. "But, I've never – "

"I figured that at some point you might have something of the sort, but I had to be sure," she said brusquely, standing up and corking the bottle. "I had hoped the calming draughts were enough to take care of your anxiety, but it appears you need a more frequent dose."

"But – but it just…_happened!"_ he said, still confused. "I wasn't even…I wasn't even scared or panicking or anything. I thought I was bloody dying!"

He tried to feel angry at the fact that she had let him nearly suffocate to death. The fact that she had used him as some sort of healer experiment to see how long it would take for him to come completely undone. But for some reason, he relaxed further into the blankets of his cot instead. They were quite comfortable. So were his clothes. And his body.

That was quite a funny word, actually. _Clothes._ No one ever really pronounced the _'th'_ in that word like they should. How was a _'th' _silent?

"Mister Finnigan?"

"What?" he looked up pleasantly.

"Go back to your common room. Slowly."

"…Okay."

He reluctantly got up from the comfortable bed (_Seriously, what was that heavenly fabric?_) and stood. His legs felt quite relaxed, and it seemed to take some extra effort for him to work his limbs correctly. However, he managed to stand without falling over or melting into the floor.

"The effects should wear off soon," the healer said warily. Her hands were out as if to catch him, but he felt fine. Though he had never realized how lovely the sunset could be at this time in the evening…

"So I'm okay, then?" he said, trying to focus on his own health rather than the scenery from the adjacent window.

"Yes, mister Finnigan. I would like you to come in_ every_ week for a calming draught now, instead of every three weeks. I will also send a letter home to advise your mother to do the same during holiday," she said brusquely.

"Okay," Seamus sighed. He tried to be worried about the fact that his mother would see the whole thing as unnecessary, but the draught prevented him from doing so. Instead, it turned his attention to his shoes and how shiny they were when the light hit them.

"I will also mention that this is _your _responsibility, mister Finnigan," she added in a stern voice. "_You_ must take the potion regularly to prevent incidents like these. I may not be around to help you like I was just now…"

"Okay," he said again, nodding.

"Are you well enough to return by yourself?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She seemed a bit concerned now. Seamus wondered where that concern had been the other thirty times he had been here to see her…

"Yeah, I think I'm…I've got it," he confirmed, running a hand through his sandy hair.

"Oh, and mister Finnigan," she said, again using that strangely gentle tone, "Do try not to worry about things. When you're young, everything seems much worse than it really is."

"I can only hope," he mumbled.

She paused, looking back at him with a rather intense stare. He met her gaze, eventually frowning in confusion as she continued to study him. Finally, she spoke up again, sounding almost hesitant.

"Have there been any…other problems? Any strange behaviors on your part?" asked Madame Pomfery slowly.

"Er…no," he said, frowning.

"Are you sure? No thoughts or curiosities that seem out of character?" she pressed. "From the usual, I mean?"

"No," Seamus repeated, trying to recall the past few days. "Why, is there some weird side-effect of the potions you're not telling me about?" he asked warily.

"Of course not," she said, giving him a searing glare. "I wouldn't administer anything harmful to students."

"Yeah, you'd just hold it from them until they start to pass out," Seamus muttered under his breath.

"_What?"_

"Nothing," he said fervently. "So, I'm okay, then?"

She eyed him up and down, lingering at his knees for some reason. How did she know they felt a bit wobbly?

"Yes," she finally said, nodding curtly.

Seamus turned and left, glancing back at her once more on the way. She continued to watch him, even as he retreated out the door and down the hall.

He hoped her mysteriousness was just because of her age.

Seamus made his way down the corridor steadily, already starting to feel the effects of the potion dim. While his attention would occasionally be distracted by a tapestry or some sort of ornate wall-ornament, it was increasingly less often. The cloudy, judgment-affecting haze was thinning to just a general feeling of calm, carrying him another floor before it settled in at that. It was then that he was fully able to take in the events that had just happened.

He had passed out from a panic-attack.

With a disgruntled sigh, his gait slowed to a halt. He had freaked out in front of Gryffindor tower. He had been unable to breathe because of a few stressful thoughts. It was so embarrassing, to think of people seeing him like that. What if they all started asking questions? Was he supposed to tell them that he was some freak who got too worked up and had to sedate himself weekly just to get through school? Why did his body have to constantly make him different than everybody else? It was bad enough that he liked blokes, but _now _he had some sort of brain-thing that was causing him even more distress. And then, that stress would make him panic, and the whole thing would be one horrid cycle…

Even now, Seamus could tell that his heart would be racing were it not for the calming draught. At least he knew it was working.

He started up again, hoping that he could get to bed before anyone else got the chance to question him. It was when another body collided with his from around the corner that he was forced to stop.

"Ouch – "

"Urgh – sorry, I didn't – Oh! Hey mate, where've you been?"

Seamus looked up to see piercing blue eyes staring back at his own. They were icy, yet so warm and inviting when surrounded by beautiful dark skin…

"Oh, er…hey," Seamus replied reluctantly. Dean stared back politely, looking too damn good with his head cocked to the side like that.

"Where you been?" he asked again, no doubt still awaiting an answer. "Angelina said you ran out…"

"Yeah, wasn't feeling well. Went to see Madame Pomfery," Seamus grunted. There, the watered-down version wouldn't make him look so weird. "I'm fine now, though."

"Alright," Dean said slowly, looking him up and down in what appeared to be concern. Then, he grinned mischievously, a look Seamus knew all too well. "Good enough to knick a bottle from the kitchens?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. For _him _being the Irish one, Dean sure did like the alcohol a bit more than everyone else. Often times he got so pissed that he was retching in the toilet for hours, which one would think was an indication for him to hold off on those last few. Though, Seamus always seemed better at holding his drink, so perhaps Dean was just a lightweight…

"Fine, but you have to at least go in with me," Seamus said. They may be Gryffindors, but it was usually Harry and Ron who were brave enough to knick all the good stuff and break all the rules. Seamus and Dean were just amateurs.

"Deal," Dean laughed.

They turned round and made their way to the kitchens, which were on the lower level beneath the Great Hall. Seamus had never actually been in there, but Harry had told him once how to get in. Something about tickling a bloody pear or whatever.

When they snuck quickly around the staircase and down the hallway, they came across a painting that was next to a huge pile of barrels. It depicted a giant bowl of fruit.

"Ah, so that's what he meant, then," Seamus said, spying a green pear among the other fruit.

He reached up, brushed his pointer finger along the underside, and jerked backward in alarm when it started giggling. They watched, bemused, as it squirmed and laughed. It then paused and turned into a doorknob.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged, reaching forward and pulling it open. It wasn't the oddest thing that had happened in this castle…

Seamus had only seen one House-Elf before, which belonged to his fairly wealthy Great-Aunt. It didn't speak when he had been present, though, for it looked too terrified to do so. This meant that he was quite surprised when he heard a squeaky voice say "Do sirs have need of assistance?"

He looked down, seeing one of them standing by his left knee. It was wearing something misshapen and nondescript, and had its tiny hands clasped respectfully at its front. Seamus couldn't really tell if it was a boy or a girl elf…

"Er…can we borrow some…" Dean started, but paused. Seamus wondered if he had thought the same thing as himself, which was that the elves would probably not be allowed to give them alcohol. Seamus wasn't sure, but he figured the teachers _may _advise against it.

"Pudding," Seamus finished for him. He gave a determined stare, trying to communicate some sort of diversion tactic.

"Er, yes, pudding," Dean said, catching on.

The elves swarmed around him, asking what types he would like, offering him several left-overs and even asking if he would like some freshly-made éclairs. Seamus took this moment of mayhem to slip away towards the back of the kitchens. Harry and Ron always said how they kept the 'good stuff' back there…

Within seconds, he was back, with the added weight of a heavy bottle sparking and sloshing in his pocket.

Dean was laden with sweets, and they both bid goodbye to the elves. It was hard not to like them. They were all so cute and unassuming…

"Okay, now I feel bad," Dean said, looking guiltily at the painting as it swung shut again.

"Yeah, me too," Seamus added. "But that's probably what the Professors _want _us to think. Let's go try and forget our guilt," he said, smirking and patting his robes pocket. Dean laughed and they headed back to the common room.

It was just before curfew when they eventually made it back, which was lucky. If any teachers had caught them sneaking around at night, the punishment would have been made that much worse with the alcohol currently fizzing within his robes. There had been one instance when Slughorn had jovially greeted them in passing, which made Dean panic. He was worried about whether Slughorn had noticed the weight in Seamus's pocket, and had been getting more reluctant the farther they got to their beds.

"Oh, I reckon it's bloody fine," Seamus said, pushing open the door to their dorm.

He immediately noticed the curtains drawn around Ron's bed. Harry oddly enough wasn't in his own, yet was still nowhere to be found. Seamus tried desperately not to roll his eyes, but the two were obviously at it. _Again._

"Yeah, but I just…I don't know about all of this, though. What if we're caught or something?" Dean said shiftily. He was still holding the sweets, and finally dumped them on his bed.

They might as well take advantage of those too.

"Oi, it was your idea," Seamus laughed. "Besides, we had about a million bottles at that last party. How come you didn't freak out then?"

Perhaps it was the calming draught talking. Worrying was usually _his _job. After all, he_ had_ just, without protest, stolen alcohol from the kitchens while he was under the legal age. And trespassing.

"I dunno. I guess it couldn't be any worse. It's just, we won't be able to put the blame on Ron this time," Dean said. Both of them laughed, and Seamus climbed atop the bed to partake in the merriment. He kicked his shoes off while Dean struggled with the bottle, finally popping it open.

"Speaking of which, how is it with you and…er…Ginny?" he wondered if bringing it up would cause Dean to be depressed again. Then he wondered if it would cause _him_ to be depressed again…

"I dunno, mate. She's been a right pain today," Dean rolled his eyes moodily. "You know, she even tried to coax me into snogging in the hall before Charms, running her hands on me and all that…"

Seamus laughed, slightly delirious. She thought after her little charade that Dean would want to snog between classes?

"So, what then?" Seamus tried to ask without too much excitement.

_You're done, you're done…Just being a curious friend from now on, is all…_

"Well, you know how things went yesterday. And plus…well, don't tell anybody, obviously, but…"

"I won't," Seamus pressed. He accepted the proffered bottle of Firewhiskey, taking a swig that burned all the way down. Dean was clearly stalling, but Seamus waited it out.

"It doesn't…feel right. I dunno. I mean, I thought it would just be a fight, and we'd work it out. But I dunno this time…"

"Oh? Bummer…"

Seamus didn't feel very upset. In fact, he felt as happy as he had seeing Dean snub her earlier today.

"Yeah. I've been thinking of calling it off. But, Nev says I should give her a chance. He says things with Luna aren't always perfect either, but you've just got to work at it."

"Ah…yeah."

"Oi, speaking of Weasleys, where _is_ Ron, anyways?"

"I dunno," Seamus stopped his eyes flitting over to Ron's bed, which Dean must not have noticed being covered.

"It seems like he and Harry are always off somewhere, doesn't it?" Dean said bluntly.

Either he was building a tolerance to the calming draughts, or Seamus had good reason to be concerned, because he felt a brief jump somewhere in his midriff that signaled panic. He was unable to stop his eyes moving over to Ron's bed this time, but quickly snapped them back to Dean.

Seamus knew that, were anyone to find out his own secret, he would want to be defended in a situation like this. What if Dean got overly curious about where the two 'friends' started disappearing to? If only Weasley wasn't so careless when he and Potter went to snog (or do whatever they did), Seamus wouldn't be staring wide-eyed down at Dean's football-themed bedspread. He had to think of something.

He took a swig from the bottle again, using it to stall as he cast around for an excuse. Finally, it clicked, and he spoke after swallowing the fiery liquid.

"They're probably off doing their normal stuff, you know them. I heard they bought a huge amount of Dungbombs last Hogsmeade weekend," Seamus lied smoothly. Technically, it wasn't even a lie. Seamus could remember Granger nagging them in the middle of the common room, saying they should spend their money on better things than silly toys.

Dean nodded, staring off into the distance as he accepted the bottle again. He seemed to be having one of his 'deep-thought' moments, so Seamus took advantage of the silence by trying to remain calm. He couldn't still be thinking about Weasley and Potter, right?

"How d'you reckon they make this stuff, anyways?" he asked, glancing down at the bottle.

Seamus nearly sighed in relief.

They then spent the next twenty minutes falling farther into the world of drunkenness, listing off increasingly ridiculous methods of creating Firewhiskey. They had suggested everything from an Incendiary spell to harvesting the parts of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but ultimately had come up with no way that it could possibly be bonded with alcohol. _Incendio_ would just burn it away, and how would a Skrewt liver dissolve into liquid? Nonetheless, Seamus was having fun, and he figured that he just might be able to handle still being friends with Dean.

And as the burn of the alcohol replaced the burn of his concealed longing, Seamus knew that he didn't have to shut himself off completely. They could still hang out like this, having loads of fun just talking and being in each other's presence, or doing stupid 'boy' things that would most likely get them into trouble. It had been a while since Seamus had been truly able to enjoy himself around Dean, without hopelessly staring behind his back or when he wasn't looking. Now that he knew he was done with all this, done with pining after someone who clearly didn't feel the same way, he could finally let go.

His vision may have gotten a bit swimmy with each draw he took from the heavy bottle, but part of it may have been Dean's swaying as well. Seamus laughed, probably too loudly, when Dean imitated Flitwick's little voice as he tried to assign homework for the break. No one believed that he would enforce the deadline come Monday. It was Christmas, after all.

"Shit," Seamus said, stopping mid-laugh. "We didn't pack our closs – crothsss – pack our shtuff," he slurred, trying to get his point across. He could see, though a bit unsteadily, that across the room Potter and Weasley must have abandoned their trunks in the process of packing as well. Clothes were strewn about, half of them thrown on the floor.

Well, it wasn't much of a change from the dorm's usual state, but the trunks were open, at least.

"Oh yeah," Dean said, his face turning serious. "Reckon we should do it now?"

"Prolly," Seamus said, pushing himself slowly off the bed and onto his feet. Once there, he wobbled, but managed to remain upright.

"Careful," Dean chuckled, mimicking his actions.

They snickered loudly as they stumbled around the room, gathering their belongings. The mere act of bending down to pick up something from the floor proved to be a difficult task, though, for once Seamus straightened up again, he would become insanely dizzy. He seized a bedpost on the third attempt, having over-corrected and wobbled dangerously. Dean saw this and began laughing so hard next to him that he actually_ did_ fall to his knees, his hand landing on a small bundle of black cloth.

His voice died down and Seamus saw his blue eyes fall on the object. They were pants. When he lifted them up, there was a distinct 'R.W.' embroidered in gold on the seam, completely visible in the low light.

They burst out laughing again, this time uncontrollably. Dean dropped the pants and clutched his stomach, and Seamus swore he could see tears in his eyes. Seamus himself was hanging onto the bedpost for dear life, but soon his hand slipped and he too fell to the floor. He lay on his back, rolling slightly, bumping Dean's knee with his elbow.

Luckily, he hadn't landed on Weasley's pants.

"He's never gonna live that down," Dean choked out, placing a steadying hand on the wooden floor.

"Never," agreed Seamus. Who had their bloody _pants_ embroidered?

He struggled to his elbows, watching as Dean attempted to get up again. When he did manage such a feat, he offered a hand for Seamus to take as well.

Whenever their skin touched, usually by accident, Seamus always felt a strange thrill run through him as if Dean's skin were holding a current. He warily eyed the other boy, wondering if all his progress today would be ruined by such a small thing as that. However, as Seamus reluctantly took Dean's hand, he was relieved to find that the usual jolt of excitement was long gone.

It was done.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>So, are things finally looking up for Seams? Is all the 'gloom doom dooooom' done now?

Oh, right. Well, I should probably address the matter of Dean's appearance, since _some _people seem to be having a difficult time accepting how I made him look. I'm usually not a whiny bitch in public, preferring to reply to reviews via message, but when people don't sign in and insist on flaming my story, I have to talk about it here. If you don't care, feel free to ignore my explanation.

Now for the insanely long part. I didn't really have the intention of 'white-washing' Dean, if it appears that way. I haven't done that with any of the other black characters that I've written about, such as Angelina or Zabini. I'm sorry if Dean not being "full-black" (which, in itself sounds more offensive to me, but whatever) is bothering anyone, but it's just the way I imagined him. With his mysterious past, and with him being the only magical one of his current family, I wanted to have him be different than the rest of his siblings, and that was how I did it. My reasons for making Dean's eyes the way they are, a bright blue that is admittedly uncommon amongst people with darker skin, are for a few reasons. For one, Dean's eye color isn't even mentioned in the books. We can all _assume _they are darker, but I chose to make his unique because that was how I imagined them. I realize the actor's eyes in the movie are brown/black, but people, I'm a writer. If I wrote these fics according to the movies, Harry would have freaking blue eyes and brown hair, and half of the time his scar would be missing because the makeup people forgot to put it on. That's not how I work. Go watch the movies if you want to see Alfred Enoch instead of Dean, I ain't stoppin' ya. Another reason I made his eyes a striking color is because I do that with most of my main characters. I give them a feature to concentrate on, because to me it makes them seem more 'magical' and separates them from simple muggles like us. Yeah, I know it's dumb, but I do. With Malfoy, it's his bright blonde hair. With Harry, it's his bright green eyes. With Ron, it's his bright blue eyes and freckles. With Seamus, it's his hazel eyes and sandy hair (though they haven't been mentioned a lot, because he doesn't dwell on his own appearance much). And with _Dean_, it's the loose curls and again, blue eyes. All of these characters have on feature I can focus my writing on, and it's that that draws the direction of the narrator's thoughts.

Phew! Okay, so sorry for the long thing, but I'm done now. I hope that gave you guys a bit of insight into why I depicted Dean as such, and probably gave you a glimpse into my writing style, lol. If you guys have any suggestions, let me know via message or review, and I'll get back to you! Also, I figure once we get to 100 reviews, I'll take pairing suggestions for a one-shot and pick the winner, like I do with all my other stories. Let me know what you guys think of the story so far, and if I'm moving too slow or too fast. Thanks for reading!


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